Page 164 of Love at First Fright

I bit back the urge to roll my eyes so hard they’d fall out of my head. God, I couldn’t wait to never hear Brad’s bullshit ever again. Soon, this nightmare would be over.

“Brilliant,” I said, plastering on fake enthusiasm thick enough to spread on toast. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Minus digging up any more skeletons—I almost didn’t survive that shit.”

Brad nodded sharply, already pushing back from the table. “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. And Charlie?” He paused at the kitchen door, fixing me with another of those suspicious looks. “Bring your A-game today. No more amateur hour.”

He stormed out, leaving me alone in the massive kitchen with my soggy cornflakes and growing dread.

I was so tired. It wasn’t fair, because I shouldn’t even be tired—we’d overslept that morning. Well, I’d overslept. Bat wasn’t late for anything in particular. But by the time I’d come around groggily, I realised I’d snoozed my alarm three times and it was five minutes to nine. I’d leapt out of bed quickly, before Bat could tempt me to stay with those puppy-dog eyes of his.

I carried the cup of coffee I’d made myself through the corridor, heading for the front door. Maybe I could stand on the doorstep and breathe some fresh air for a few minutes before Brad’s hellish day began in earnest.

“In here.” Bat’s voice hissed directly into my ear, urgent and low. Nothing but empty corridor ahead of me, empty corridor behind. The air prickled cold where his invisible mouth had been. Infinitely unsettling and creepy.

A nearby cupboard door creaked open by itself.

Again, so fucking creepy. Why, oh why, did I find this ghost so bloody cute?!

I glanced around the empty corridor, then placed my coffee on the tiled floor before slipping into the cupboard, pulling the door shut behind me.

Complete darkness swallowed me whole. Great.

“What is it?” I whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Brad said ten minutes,” the darkness said.

“And?”

Lips pressed to my neck, just above my collarbone. Cool. Deliberate. Then breath ghosted down to my ear, raising every hair on my arms.

“Bat,” I groaned. “Stop that. I need to work.”

“And I need to hear those pretty sounds of yours again.”

“It’s probably more like seven minutes now.”

“I don’t even need that long.” His voice dropped lower, full of promise. “Trust me.”

I opened my mouth to protest—I had a genuine, reasonable protest forming—but the zip of my ExorSquad overalls rasped downward in one smooth pull. Metal teeth separating in the darkness. That sound went straight through me, tightening every single muscle in my body.

His hand slipped under my boxers. Cool fingers wrapped around my cock.

“Fucking hell, Bat!”

“Open your mouth.” Not a request. A command.

I obeyed. Didn’t even think about it. Four fingers slid between my lips.

“Suck.”

I did, coating his fingers thoroughly, spit pooling around them. Then he pulled them free with a soft pop and swapped hands. Slick fingers wrapped around me, working my cock with steady pressure. Blood rushed south, dizzying and fast, as I hardened fully in his grip.

My head thudded against the back wall of the cupboard. “But I need to meet Brad—”

“Then you’d better come quickly for me, baby.” His voice had gone wicked, dangerous. His other hand grabbed my ass cheek, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt.

The pitch-blackness made everything sharper—no sight, just sensation. His hands on me. His breath against my ear. My cock throbbing in his grip, pulse hammering through every inch of me.

“Just relax,” Bat whispered. “Let me make you feel good.”